Storm
by Dark Raven Wrote
Summary: In a world where magic is illegal, captured Harry Potter strives to make his last night count while Draco Malfoy is determined not to let his loss go to waste. Revenge is a funny thing. AU HPDM


**Storm**

**Rating: **M

**Setting: **Based on an idea i had for another favourite fandom of mine; 'Merlin' but i love this pairing so much and have more inspiration for them. So, think Merlin. AU, very much so.

**Warnings: **slash, sex, death, gore (although i could've made it so much worse)

**A/N: **So this was originally going to be a oneshot but I've left it open so i could make it a chaptered fic if enough people want a sequel. I have ideas for one so if you would like one say so. Im not going to tell you whats going on here at all, because if you dont know by the end i havent' written this very well and i haven't done my job. Bare in mind there may be a few remaining mysteries for if i do do a sequel.

**Disclaimer: **_Fan_fiction says it all; i don't own.

**Music: **right so im always inspired by music and i figure its about time i started naming the few songs i use for each fic/chapter in my stories. The entire thing was inspired and named afteran orchestral piece called **Storm, Craig Armstrong **from **Elizabeth, The Golden Age.** Absolutely fanatstic, go listen. And one other piece: **My Name is Lincoln, Steve Jablosky, **absolutely beautiful. This was written whilst listening to these two pieces on constant repeat.

* * *

**Storm**

His tattered shoes slid on the damp floor as he hurried along the low lit corridor, heedless of any dangers lurking around hidden corners for him. His dust infested robes clung dankly to his emaciated frame; a souvenir from his father's free reign over the currently broken castle whose hallways he now found himself scuttling down. The silver encrusted brackets hung limply from the walls, the strength holding them there was a mystery to all, their flames never quite spluttering out even when the most ferocious of winds wailed mournfully through the fragmented sanctuary. The dank stone, putrid green moss scaling the slabs half-heartedly wherever the eye fell, were eroded and crumbling; it was a miracle that all the passageways still existed as portals from one portion of this once mystical place to another.

Presently, the gentle breeze that whispered through the corridors, brushing against his soft cheeks, stroking away the invisible tears and petting his tangled mass of hair, was doleful, as if wishing to offer him comfort in his time of difficulty and need. His fingers, tangled in the shreds of material lying lifelessly in his pockets, never rested in complete stillness; his nails were shreds of their former selves although whether this was because of the many times he had gnawed at them or because of the many times he had caught them on jagged objects he did not know.

"_You're going out to see him again, aren't you."_

Harry snorted at the shrill voice echoing in his mind, her reprimands had always gone ignored before this, why should this one be any different. He quickened his pace, eager to widen the distance between himself and his…'friends.'

"_I can't leave the grounds. I can't run and I definitely can't hide. Why should you care where I go anymore?"_

The wide staircase descended below him. He could see the memories lingering there, spectral figures of two young lads scuffling on the lowermost steps, of muttered and hissed conversations muted in clamour of noise that logically came with the stampede between classes, of stolen kisses in the dead of night, forbidden and their little secret to the grave…or so they thought. And in some ways, regretfully, this statement was very much the blunt, brutal truth.

The grand doors, reaching up to the heavens and arcing all the way up to the ceiling, suspended as if by magic above the rough cobbled flooring of the entrance hall, which was majestic in its sheer scale, the ancestral statues looming over the space and somehow managing to appear protective and foreboding at the same time, were open. Outside, Harry could see the smearing rain slashing down through the small opening and hear the dull strikes of miniscule hailing droplets shattering against the frozen, inflexible ground below; thus was the cruel reality of the world.

"_You're not allowed to…"_

"_Fuck you! I won't have my last night dictated by the likes of you!"_

He paused for a moment, glazed eyes staring dazedly out into the murk. There were far too many blades of liquid for him to follow and focus on even a single one but his eyes caught, for one single second before he bravely stepped out into the unknown darkness, a glimpse of what eternity must look like.

As soon as he crossed the barrier into the outside world, his glasses misted with the fog of his own clouding breath and water trickled across the thin sheet of glass obscuring his view almost completely. His musty scented clothes clung like sodden seaweed to a traveller's bare legs; slippery, with a hard iron grip and sickening slide that would send a disgusted shiver down anyone's spine, curling around each vertebrae and squeezing each one unpleasantly.

Harry's feet carried him, although in which direction he was not exactly sure. All he knew was that it was towards the haven below the frosted fir trees, enclosed and hiding them with its voluminous branches like a shielding mother's caring embrace, beside the lapping, icy lake, rippling with the showering rainwater and the pebbled beach with its gleaming stones, even in the dimmest of silver lights such as the sliver of moonbeam that shone down from the heavens at that very moment.

Slipping beneath the welcoming arms of the tree, Harry crawled into the small shelter that he and Draco had come to call their own. He was already there waiting for him, long legs extended out before him and the heel of his leather clad foot turning the soft earth beneath it restlessly. His blond hair, immaculate as ever, positively glowed in the thin streak of moonshine that sifted through the thick needles of the trees behind him. His face, angelic even in the din, stared softly back at him, rosy lips on standing out against the pallor of his fair complexion. It was his eyes, though, that had always captivated Harry. A grey so close to silver they were almost mercury when they sparkled back at him, piercing into him as if he could read his every thought like they were scrawled words on a page.

"I didn't expect you to come." His voice reminded Harry of the pure spring breeze, gentle and refreshingly replenishing, after a sudden storm. It whispered like an angel's caress from those lips, which barely parted in that aristocratic way whilst still managing to perfectly articulate every syllable. The raging tempest outside shook their sanctuary as if his dulcet tones held a certain power over the elements themselves. Harry stepped forward hesitantly, as was his commoner's way, and, brushing a sheathing of bracken from his desired place on the ground with a sweeping motion, collapsed unceremoniously to the earth that waited without mercy to great him. As was always the case, Harry was aware of the differences, of the contrast between the two of them. He saw how peculiar this reflection would look to the outside eye. Draco had his stiff, upper-class posture, his high-arching nose and his patrician features that had been honed through generations of carefully selected breeding. Harry, in comparison, was nothing but a dirty peasant with his slouched spine, rough face and wild, untameable locks, but, surprisingly enough, it only seemed to be him that was bothered by these differences. Draco accepted things with a sort of quiet calm, analysing and searching for loopholes, where Harry would be quick to anger, his temper flaring red like the volcano's monstrous lava bubbling over from its simmering incarceration.

"Of course I came. How could you ever think otherwise?" Harry leaned forwards and he would never know if he did it intentionally or whether it was just the gravitational pull he felt rolling from Draco that he could not find it in himself to even attempt to resist.

"I expected your friends to…"

"No. If this is my last night…" Harry determinedly swallowed the boiling, sickening knob that rose in his throat, cutting off his speech momentarily. He quickly resumed though, hopeful that Draco had not noticed. "I want to spend it with you." He thrust his chest out, much like a peacock aiming to impress its mate with its plume and fearless nature. Of course, though, Draco was not fooled.

"You're scared," he stated, his voice rising with a fierce passion as the wind outside mounted vigorously, whipping at the trees around them and making their branches furl and lash around the pair encased within them.

"I thought you would have been angry at me," Harry murmured, dropping his head and avoiding all relative topics that could dislocate his already injured pride even further.

"How could I be angry? You did what you had to do to survive. I would have done the same." However, Harry knew the man before him. He knew that when he tipped his chin just so, as he was doing now, he was hiding something. He knew that when he shifted his ankle in readjustment in such a way as he was doing now, he was endeavouring to push the conversation forward and away from a dangerous topic. But above all, it was the way his eyes paled slightly, the dazzling quality dimming slightly, a small enough change that most would not notice. But to Harry, it was a sure sign.

"You knew." His statement was met with a heavy silence. Even the ferocious gale of the storm outside held its breath as if waiting with baited breath to find how she should react, with a guilty keen or an indignant shrill.

"Yes."

"You never said anything." Harry resolutely ignored the trilling whistles of the remorseful bluster around him as Draco slowly looked back at him, a lightning spark of sane thought shooting across his iris.

"What would you have done? It was easier for us to keep your secret separately. This isn't a game, Harry, it never has been. It was better this way. At some point you were bound to slip up because you worried about me accidentally letting slip too much or betraying you."

"You would never betray me," Harry immediately declared, taking pride in the way the rain outside leapt at his devotion and loyalty, whilst considering Draco's logical account. "Must you always be right?" He asked, an easy smile wriggling its way onto his lips.

"Yes," came his reply, that special shared grin that was the matching half of his own smile curling at his flawless lips. Harry held his gaze, searching within his eyes as if for permission.

Somehow, although he was not sure how it happened, he ended up tangled atop Draco, his arms and legs, still wrapped within their soggy confines, tangled with the other man's. He could feel the firm grasp of strong fingers on his arm and the teasing point of a noble pressing against the tender skin of his neck. A bead of sweat trickled from his temple, sliding across his cheek and along the sharp edge of his jaw to drip onto the ashen skin at the base of Draco's neck.

"You are scared, aren't you," Draco mumbled into his throat, pressing his flesh further towards Harry's pulse as if checking it were still beating regularly. It wasn't but not for the dreaded reason Draco was imagining.

"Yes," Harry breathed back, the confession barely brushing his lips as it left his mouth.

"Are you nervous," and somehow Harry knew Draco was not talking about the inevitable events that were to befall them tomorrow as the sun rose mercilessly from its sleep.

"Yes," he exhaled again, deciding instead to focus on the ardent storm blazing cold icicles and spitting gems of hails down on them rather than the burning awaking that would bring the morn and his end.

Draco was so close to him. He could smell the salty tang of his bare skin as he slid the collar of his shirt from his polished shoulder. He could feel the unblemished, alabaster skin as he skimmed his fingertips ever so gently under the material and up to caress a dusky nipple. He could see the flecks of white and gold in his eyes glazing over as his head was thrown back in abandon. He could trace the faint ghost of renewed stubble along his delicate jaw line as his mouth hung open, wanton pants escaping. And even as he ripped the shirt over his fine head, with more force than was absolutely necessary, he could feel, not just with his skin but also with an inner sense that cannot be identified with an empirical name, that the way Draco moved beneath him only served as more proof that this was what was absolutely right. The way his muscular legs, lean and without fault as if sculpted by the master himself, wound around his waiting waist and his arms ascended gracefully to accommodate the loss of his clothing.

Harry heard a guttural sound wrench itself from the depths of his throat as slender yet strong fingers plummeted into his tangled mane of hair and yanked his head back. A slick mouth attached to the sensitive flesh of his neck, and it was as the column arched backward and his eyelid fluttered shut, the sooty lashes brushing his flushed cheeks, that a fork of bleeding lightning seethed through the thunder clouded sky. And it was as Harry fumbled with his own robe, his thoughts completely nonsensical due to the nimble bucks Draco was making under him, that a climatic rumble gurgled through the heavens, although to Harry, the only things he could hear were the mixed grunts and moans escaping them and the throbbing of his own blood in his ears.

He could feel Draco's fingertips scrambling at his trousers; the dexterity vanished in their need to reach their new goal. Seconds later and their lips finally crashed together, the resounding clang of the storm booming out their pleasure as their teeth scraped messily and their tongues tangled harshly, and Draco finally managed to divest him of his trousers, leaving him to bob free of his confines. The coarse fabric of the worn garment was stripped from his legs violently and his mind was getting dizzy but kissing Draco felt so good and he would rather starve himself of oxygen than let him go whilst the heat was becoming unbearable and Draco's fingers teasing at his head was doing nothing for his self-control nor his sanity. And suddenly something snapped in his mind like elastic stretched too far and he was mumbling words he barely understood himself, low hisses and gentle croons, and Draco was shivering against him, beautifully naked and gazing up at him warily but without any form of shock etched on his face whatsoever or any sign of fear. A keening mewl later and he was sliding into a tight heat that caused his brain to stop thinking rationally all together, made his body shiver and spasm and urged him to dive forward to steal another succulent kiss. And their lips were melding and quivering against each other as Harry slowly drew back, his hand sliding down a sweat-soaked side to grasp a firm buttock in his palm, and thrust forward, hard.

There was blinding light and searing heat so scolding he thought he might catch alight. Draco clenched blessedly around him and bucked up into him, jerking his lip between his teeth savagely. It wasn't graceful or perfect as Harry had always imagined it would be. True, it was beautiful in its own way but it was passion and emotion and raw movements that were lead by instinct alone.

Droplets of sweat splattered onto Draco's forehead as Harry moulded their mouths together once more, his hips rutting against arse with a free abandon that had them both gasping for breath between snatched of kisses. And then Harry was gripping any part of Draco's pale body he could manage to find, as if attempting to hold onto the physical world as his body spiralled out of control. The rain dripped down on them, finally penetrating their haven, tapping merrily on Harry's back and merging with the droplets of sweat that streaked through the nail imprints Draco was scraping there. It was over too soon, first they were seizing against each other, liquid gushing between them, then they were shuddering and Harry could feel his seed slick within Draco's body, until their only movements were but twinges, faint and pleasant.

* * *

"Harry Potter," the old man's voice rasped over the mutterings of the gathered crowd, "you have been accused and condemned of the crime of Witchcraft. The punishment for such a crime is death. Do you have any departing words?"

Harry glared down at the speaker soullessly, his own dead eyes connecting momentarily with the sapphire eyes below him that glittered and sparkled spitefully back at him in the blood red of the morning light. Resolutely, and with more pride than he felt he possessed in his quivering body, Harry raised his chin defiantly, baring the sleek, vulnerable skin of his neck in a show of bravery. In fact, his reason for this action was so that he could flicker his gaze up to the tallest tower, which seemed like an eternity away, to see if he could catch a glimpse of flaxen hair dancing in the rising sun or pale skin flushed a deadly scarlet. In truth, he did not know if Draco was even there. He recognised that it was an incredibly selfish thing to wish for but decided that as he would never know the reality of the matter, he would allow himself to be disillusioned one last time.

"Light the fires," the crackled grate ordered and as an afterthought, added "burn, Witch!" mindless of the spittle that lashed from his putrid mouth with his callous words.

He could vaguely feel the lick of flame catching at his unkempt clothes and scorching his hands where they were fastened behind him to an unforgiving post, but his concentration remained entirely focused on the balcony far, far off in the distance, further than he could strain his eyes to see. He imagined he saw jewelled mercury sorrowfully mourning him and alabaster skin worthy of any King's eyes shining in the golden light of heaven as she opened her caring arms to greet him.

* * *

Draco Malfoy stared out at the billowing plumes of charred smoke coursing skyward from the malevolently glowing fires below, intent on simmering and feeding greedily from the last traces of blackened bone and tattered flesh, with a new clarity. The world was a cruel place governed by judgemental elitists without a democratic atom in their merciless bodies; all afraid of the unknown and fixed on murdering it while it slept rather that exploring the endless possibilities such gifts had the promise of possessing.

This was what Draco had learned as a child; a way of thinking, of viewing the world, that he came to see as normality. But over the past years, Harry had changed that and he had somehow managed to block out the absolute teachings of his father. There was warmth in the world; a beautiful world of emotion and feeling he had previously been cut off from with a jagged iron dagger. A world where even pain and anguish were things to be cherished as they were evidence of the things to which everyone clings to; humanity, mortality, morality.

Harry had shown him that place with his patient, guiding hands. Now, those hands existed as nothing more than sizzling dust flouting away on that vindictive smoke that drifted up into the rapidly darkening sky along with his body and mind. But never his soul; Draco refused to accept that that had been stolen from him as well. And Draco found his thoughts returning to those humid afternoons of his childhood spent in his father's study being preached at and threatened and pressured and he found himself, only partially against his will, slipping back into his father's lessons, believing once more fractions of what he had been taught, shamefully though as he felt as if he was somehow stamping on Harry's premature grave before he had even been buried in it.

Yes, Draco Malfoy stood rigidly atop the Astronomy tower, pale hands gripping the railing until his knuckles converted to an deathly ashen pallor and completely unaware of the storm clouds brewing behind him, and discovered something he had long forgotten due to Harry's ever-loving, ever-forgiving, tender heart.

Draco Malfoy discovered revenge.

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So, sequel/chaptered or not? Would you like to see what Draco does?

Reviews are always welcome.

Happy new year and happy belated holidays.

Yours

Bella


End file.
